


may your silhouette never dissolve

by Hodgy



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Feelings, First Kiss, M/M, Post Dynamite 32-20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25746379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hodgy/pseuds/Hodgy
Summary: the match is mostly a blur now. he should’ve just stayed down like jon told him to.jon didn’t want this. he’d tried to be discrete, tried to hide them; his feelings, whatever they were, for the scrawny goth kid with too much passion for his own good. darby allin. the enigma, the up-and-comer. bursting with raw potential and sincerity, something jon lost years before he made it to aew.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Darby Allin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 63





	may your silhouette never dissolve

**Author's Note:**

> title from "i crave your mouth, your voice, your hair" by pablo neruda

jon watches a stream of cold water wash over his palm, taking bits of cracked face-paint and dried blood with it as it splits off and flows through the gaps between his fingers.

the distinct taste of iron still lingers in his mouth. it’s dripping down his forehead; dotting the porcelain below every so often with a fresh splash of red.

the match is mostly a blur now. he should’ve just _stayed down_ like jon told him to.

jon didn’t want this. he’d tried to be discrete, tried to hide them; his _feelings_ , whatever they were, for the scrawny goth kid with too much passion for his own good. _darby allin_. the enigma, the up-and-comer. bursting with raw potential and sincerity, something jon lost years before he made it to aew.

the whole roster knew it now, jon guessed, picking at plasma caked under his fingernails. if they didn’t have suspicions last week, after jon had thrown a chair across tony khan’s office, screaming his head off about how he’d face anyone _but_ darby, they sure had them now.

_“he’s proven himself, jon”_ tony had said, hands in his suit jacket pockets and calm as ever despite the manic energy radiating off of jon in waves. _“he’s over with the fans, he’s talented, he’s one of the best we’ve got. you know he deserves this as much as i do.”_

jon had stormed out of his office and spent the evening going 40 miles over the speed-limit down the freeway, almost hoping he'd get pulled over and put away or, hell, even that he'd crash and be unfit to fight for the foreseeable future. what would tony do without his precious title match then?

jon had even considered giving up; letting darby pin him on a one count just to make a point. but he knew that darby wouldn't want to win it like that, on a forfeit. jon respected him too much for that.  
  
so they'd have to wrestle, and wrestle they did. they took each other to overtime; production frantically waving their hands at them behind the cameras trying to push them to finish, that tv time was up. but darby wouldn't _stay down_. he wouldn't give up. and neither would jon.   
  
when it was over, finally, jon couldn't stop himself from holding darby's near lifeless body close. _"i'm sorry."_ he'd whispered into darby's ear. " _i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry."_

jon sighs, running his fingers through his damp hair. a bright flare of pain bursts across his skull at the touch. that asshole really got him, huh? and with his own belt.

no matter, jon will get mjf and his meat-head bodyguard back later. now, he has to deal with something else.

he scrubs a crumpled up shirt over his torso, trying to get the majority of the sweat and blood off, before pulling a clean one over his head.

the gasps when he makes his way to the locker rooms don’t surprise him. he doesn’t come back here often, and the talent make it obvious this is out of the ordinary, whispering to each other like school kids. _jackasses_ , jon thinks, he's not fuckin’ _bigfoot_.

“can all of you fuck off for a minute? i got somethin’ to talk to darby about.”

jon can see darby’s eyes dart up at him for a second from where he’s sitting in the darkest corner of the room.

“why should i?” one of the jurassic express kids quips, earning a glare from jon and a smack around the ear from the big dinosaur guy. “don’t be a little shit, marko” big dinosaur guy whispers into the kid, marko’s ear, before grabbing him by the collar and dragging him out of the room.

the rest of the crowd follows after them, hangman and omega trailing behind with an arm each around the injured member of ftr. _dax? cash?_ fuck if jon knew, both sound the same to him _._

omega claps a hand over jon’s shoulder as he makes his way past. “if you need to talk man, i’m here any time.” 

jon nods, and omega nods back. they have a mutual respect for one another. and jon knows, even though they’ve never talked about it, that omega has been in a similar situation once before. maybe he’d take him up on that.

soon, it's just jon and darby. there's so much space between them. jon moves to close it, making his way over to the boy and kneeling down on the floor in front of him.

“what do you want, mox?” darby drawls, eyes fixated on his boots.

jon lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding for an eternity.

“you okay?” 

it was a stupid question. he knew darby better than that. even if the kid broke half the bones in his body he’d still answer the same way.

“i’m fine.”

“ _kid._ ” jon presses, lifting a hand and placing it tentatively on darby’s knee. “are you okay? really?”

darby stills, eyes narrowing in suspicion. finally, he meets jon’s eyes, clearly confused and a little annoyed.

“i’m fine. why do you care all of a sudden?”

jon chews at the inside of his cheek. he can’t even begin to explain. months and months of this building up. thoughts swirling around in his head. _darby, darby, darby_. constantly. jon doesn’t know where it came from, or why it happened, but every time he sees darby wrestle he feels a pang go through his chest. every time he catches a glimpse of him backstage he burns with want. every time jon is lucky enough to be in the ring with him, he never wants it to end.

jon swallows, and moves the hand resting on darby’s knee to his cheek, pressing his thumb into the little divot next to darby’s mouth.

darby doesn’t pull away, or protest, or do anything but look back at jon, eyes wide and questioning.

“why do i care? because i do” is all jon can manage in return. ‘i just do.”

before jon can form another thought, darby’s lips meet his. his mouth is warm, and soft, and nothing at all like the way he paints himself to look; all darkness and grim death.

it only lasts a second, and when it’s over, jon feels himself breathe a sigh of relief. _finally_.

“you’re an asshole, you know that?” the corner of darby’s mouth quirks up as he says it, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“yeah i know.” jon counters, brushing his thumb over the cracked face-paint and blood smudged across darby’s cheek. “it’s kind of my brand.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i HAD to do it after tonight's episode of dynamite. the way mox cradled darby like that after the pin??? pure romance.


End file.
